


Flu Season

by GuileandGall



Series: Free To Be [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Comfort, F/M, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boss never gets sick. Never. But somehow it seems she has brought back a case of the flu from one of the time slips. Matt braves what the rest of the Saints tout is a suicide mission to offer a little comfort to her. -- A response to the prompt: What are they like when they get sick? Suggested by SaintsEmpressJae</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flu Season

 

**Flu Season**

_22\. What are they like when they get sick? Do they have a particular system (ears, lungs, etc) that illness gravitates to?_

  
****-1-** **

* * *

Quick footfalls rang off the metal in the ship. No one really paid any attention to the sound. But when Shaundi landed rather forcefully against the doorjamb, everyone's attention turned to her. The overwhelming look of panic in her eyes prompted Pierce's question. "Damn, girl, what's wrong?"

"I think the boss is sick."

"Oh fuck that!" Gat replied quickly, smacking Pierce in the chest.

"I'm with ya," Washington replied, grabbing his hat and setting it on his head at a very precise angle.

The two of them started walking toward the door opposite the one Shaundi was still leaning in. But the coughing that resounded down the hallway stopped the two men dead in their tracks. The look they shared seemed to say,  _Fuck, we're trapped_.

Miller was tucked up in a large chair in the corner and just chuckled at them. "Everyone gets sick. What's the big deal?"

"Not the boss," Johnny said in a grave tone.

"Remy doesn't get sick, like  _ever_ ," Shaundi stressed.

Pierce nodded. "But when she does. You don't want to be in range."

"Trust us," Gat added with a little nod.

"I think you're just overreacting," the hacker dismissed.

"Suit yourself," Pierce replied. "But don't say we didn't warn you."

With a sneeze, Remy appeared in the doorway. Pierce almost felt bad for Matt. The boss was pale and her forehead shone with a sheen that suggested she might also be running a fever. Suddenly he was less concerned about her torturing any of them for the next few to several days and was more worried about catching whatever bug had been stupid enough to infect the boss.

Remy leaned in the doorway. "I think you guys might be on your own for a few days. Don't fucking blow up my ship," she growled. "And feel free to pretend I don't exist." With that, she spun tiredly out of the doorway and traipsed back down the hall.

"Damn, this looks like it is going to be ugly," Pierce muttered.

Matt set his handheld console aside as he stood. "I think you're all overreacting."

Johnny grabbed Miller's arm as he passed. "I'm telling you. Take her warning and avoid her until it's over, kid."

****-2-** **

* * *

Matt had considered their warnings for a few minutes, but eventually his empathy won out. He pulled on his own childhood and scoured the ship for what he would need to recreate his mother's special basket. He couldn't remember precisely how that silly old wife's tale she always told him went.  _Starve a cold, feed a flu, or maybe it is the other way around,_ he thought recalling how often the flu made him violently ill. He decided to be prepared either way.

The tray was replete with a pot of herbal tea, all snuggled in a nice warm cozy, honey and lemon in case she had a sore throat. He counted off the list in his head: tea, soup, crackers, lozenges, and … Miller knew he was forgetting something. Glancing around the room he saw precisely what he was missing. He grabbed the tablet and set it on the tray.

He could not remember precisely what she was currently reading but he figured no one wants to do anything too productive when they are sick. If nothing else, he had loaded a few games onto her device that he thought she might enjoy; they might come in handy, if reading turned out to be too taxing.

There was practically no sound in the area of the ship where her quarters were. It was as if the rest of the Saints had spread the word to steer clear of the boss. Matt just shook his head. The room was brighter than he expected to find it, and the bed was empty.

"Remy."

As he crossed the room and set the tray on the bedside table he called her name a few more times and got no answer. When he found her, he was relieved but pained.  _Apparently it is starve a flu_ , told himself as he crossed the bathroom and crouched beside her. Her blonde hair was tied up in messy and hastily crafted bun, she looked peaceful until a shiver wracked her body. The boss curled in a little tighter on herself, tugging at the sweatshirt she was laying on.

Matt traced her brow with his fingertip. "Remy," he said softly. The faint groan was almost precious. He repeated the action and her name again and she blinked up at him. "Why are you asleep on the bathroom floor?"

"I just needed a minute. Thought about going to bed, but figured I'd just be safer here," she mumbled.

It was almost too cute, he thought, until he helped her sit up, which seemed to piss off the virus. Matt had never imagined himself in this position. Kneeling on the cold stone, rubbing someone's back, as they …  _how did the guys in the dorm put it-prayed to the porcelain god_.

She rested her forehead on her arm, face still poised for another bout with the tiny bug invading her system. Her other hand tagged the handle and the whoosh drowned out all other possible sound. "You really don't need to do this, Matt."

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he could easily list a million things he would rather be doing, but she sounded so miserable. And he remembered what he was like when he did not feel well. He never liked being alone when he did not feel above board. Hell, less than a month earlier she had comforted him through about twelve stitches-reading to him despite the drug induced fog he had been in. It was not quite the same thing, but on the same vein, he thought.

"I know I don't," he replied, kissing her shoulder.

"I'm going to turn into a bear. I swear. You're better off not giving me someone to bite."

"I don't know. I rather enjoy it when you bite me."

The laughter was strained and started her heaving again. Much like the last spell it was little more than her body being uselessly tormented with spasms. Her breathing was labored and she groaned when it seemed it was over. When she tried to stand, he helped her.

"I'm going to turn down the bed. Then you're going to get in it," Matt ordered as Remy leaned over the sink.

****-3-** **

* * *

The taste of the toothpaste threatened to make her body rebel again, but she managed to get through it without the painful reminder that her stomach was entirely empty. The fever made her feel clammy and grimy. Leaning against the sink trying to catch her breath, the boss decided on a detour. A few minutes later Matt opened the shower door and looked at her.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him from the floor of the shower. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then not so much."

Matt smiled, shook his head, and pulled his shirt off. After stripping quickly, he joined her on the floor of the shower. There was no lecture, no irritation, he did not even sigh at her.

"Are you running a fever?" he asked as he lightly ran the citrusy-scented soap over her arms.

"Probably."

"Cold sweats?"

She nodded as she leaned back against his chest. He washed her hair, and held her tight against him when she stood. Once he got her out of the shower and dry he did ask her to just let him take care of her.

"I know you're the boss," he said as he pulled the tank top over her head. "But I'm here, so let me help."

She looked up at him, it was still hard to have someone this much a part of her life, to have someone around who wanted to be immersed in her broken little world. Though she had to admit things were a little less broken since she had let Matt into it.

He zipped her up in his favorite hoodie then pressed his lips to her forehead before he pulled the hood over her head. He wrinkled his nose and reached past her. "You have a fever," he diagnosed as he looked through the medicine cabinet.

"It's not worth it," she observed glancing back at the collection of random little bottles. "As soon as it hits my stomach, I'll just be sick again."

There was concern in his blue eyes when he looked down at her. "We'll play it your way. But if it gets higher, we risk it."

It was a little strange to see her easily distracted hacker so intent and attentive. Her arms snaked around his chest and she just held onto him for a moment; it made her feel lightheaded and a little dizzy, but also comforted her as he wrapped himself around her, resting his cheek on her head. It was a simple thing and something he did for her often, but no matter how many times he embraced her so completely it was still one of the most intense sensations she had experienced.

When he scooped her up, Remy decided not to protest, instead she held onto him and let him carry her across the room. She did not object until Matt stood instead of climbing into the bed with her.

"I'll be back," he promised softly. And indeed he was after having donned a pair of comfortable pajama pants and a t-shirt.

Matt let her cuddle up on his chest with his arm around her. He snaked his arm under Remy's shirt, rubbing her back lightly. Remy could not help but hum as she pulled herself closer to him and his lips pressed to her forehead again.


End file.
